


Carry

by 3988Akasha



Series: Friendship Chronicles [16]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 14:11:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3988Akasha/pseuds/3988Akasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles and Bass have been friends forever...it's Miles and Bass, always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Timid_Timbuktu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timid_Timbuktu/gifts).



> More from Bass' POV...so, T&T, enjoy.

Bass grabbed Ashburn by the shirt and shook him. “What do you mean he didn’t come back with you?”

“He told us to leave him. Come on, man, you know what he’s like. He started _shooting_ at us when we wouldn’t leave.”

Bass couldn’t breathe, but he nodded. “Sure, sure.” The response was automatic, as was his release of Ashburn’s shirt. He could see how bloody and dirty the men from the patrol were, the one’s who’d come back. Bass refused to think of the specific number of men who _hadn’t_ made it back to base. Not with Miles still out there. He moved through a fog, walked back to his tent, grabbed his gear and went to the edge of the base before Ashburn caught up with him.

“Sebastian! Wait, man, just wait.”

Bass turned around, gun raised. Ashburn threw his hands up automatically.

“Whoa, man, I’m not here to stop you. I brought you our map. See?” Ashburn shook his right hand, the one holding the map. “I’ve circled our last known location and the area we think the insurgents came from. Bring him back.”

Bass took the map and looked at Ashburn for a moment, noted the concern in his face, but beneath it, the surety that he’d bring Miles back. Which he would. With a final nod to Ashburn, Bass looked down at the map, finding exactly where the patrol had been when they’d been ambushed. It had to have been bad because they had been a heavily armored group, but he knew Miles had been concerned about the location. Naturally, the idiots in charge of sending them out had ignored his feelings, calling it some sort of jitters or traumatophobia, and Bass had just barely kept from punching someone. Miles Matheson was many things, but an alarmist or some weak-kneed coward was not among his characteristics.

He followed the most direct route to where the group had been pinned down and ducked behind the remnants of their Humvee just as a hail of bullets came from the north, the same area Ashburn had marked on his map. Bass took a deep breath and checked his weapon before looking at the map, trying to figure out which way Miles would have gone. It made sense for him to go back towards the base, but Bass hadn’t encountered him on the way. There were too many blood trails for Bass to simply follow one of those and guessing wasn’t an option with Miles’ life on the line.

Miles wasn’t foolish enough to go towards the gunfire, not without someone’s life on the line, and from the bodies around him, Bass knew there wasn’t anyone to go after. Bass edged along the Humvee, looking around for the nearest place Miles could have taken shelter. His eyes landed on a bombed out building five hundred yards to the southwest; it wasn’t ideal, but if he was injured, it would be better than nothing. Plus, there wasn’t anything else. More gunfire followed him as he darted out from the shelter of the Humvee and started to make his way towards the building. He wondered why they hadn’t sent men out further, unless they were entrenched and just trying to pull more men into a firefight. He hadn’t encountered any sort of resistance until he’d been to the Humvee. It didn’t make any sense, but he didn’t have time to try to discern the other side’s strategy, he’d discuss it with Miles that night.

As he turned the corner of the building, he fell to the ground to avoid a volley of bullets. He popped his head up enough to see a boot, but couldn’t see anything else which was frustrating because the boot could belong to anyone. He didn’t have time to sit here.

He cupped his hands around his mouth to make a megaphone. “ _Habibi_?”

Just as he was about to call out again, he heard some shuffling, then a muttered curse. With a smile, Bass crawled forward. He’d found Miles. He’d know that particular muttered curse anywhere.

“What in the hell are you doing here?”

Bass smiled as he sat next to where Miles had propped himself up against the crumbling wall.

“Oh you know, thought it would be a nice spot for some sunbathing.”

Miles rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

“Get your ass back to the base.”

“I plan to,” Bass replied. “Once we get you on your feet. I’m not going back without you. It’ll be easier if you just say ‘yes, Bass’, but I’m prepared to clobber you over the head and carry you back to the base like the useless sack of potatoes you are.”

“Sack of potatoes?”

Bass smiled, but it faded quickly. He knew Miles’ diversionary tactics. Before Miles could push him away, Bass moved in front of Miles and started doing a closer inspection of his best friend’s body. There were bruises and dirt everywhere, and blood. At first, he thought it was someone else’s blood, or maybe he just allowed himself to hope it was someone else’s, but he looked closer at Miles’ left leg and found a jagged wound, still steadily oozing blood.

“Idiot.”

Miles didn’t respond, which Bass was thankful for because he might just loose what was left of his calm.

“I’m getting you out of here.”

“I can’t walk, Bass.”

“I know.”

“You can’t carry me all the way back to the base. It’s suicide.”

Bass held Miles’ face between his hands. “It’s you and me, remember? I’m not leaving you here. You’ll have to shoot me, Miles.”

Miles flinched. Bass knew Miles wouldn’t shoot him, so that was close enough to consent for him. He moved himself into a position that would make it easier for him to shoulder Miles’ body.

“No, Bass. You’ll die if you try to carry me the whole way. I’ll walk.”

“You told me you couldn’t walk.”

Miles gave him a look that made Bass shiver. He knew Miles so well, knew that Miles _couldn’t_ walk, but he was _going_ to walk anyway. Together they made their way towards the base. After about five miles, Bass threw Miles to the ground and returned fire. He killed the men who’d been following them and then went back over to where he’d left Miles and helped him stumble back to his feet. It wasn’t much longer before Miles crumpled to the ground. After checking for a pulse, Bass positioned Miles over his shoulder.

He could just make out the entrance to their base when he felt his own knees buckle. Bass refused to fall this close to the base; he’d promised Miles he’d get him back, and he didn’t intend to break that promise. Bass pushed himself up from his knees and staggered the rest of the way to the base. Ashburn was hovering near the entrance, face full of anxiety.

Bass smiled cheekily at Ashburn. “Found him.”

His knees did buckle then, but he didn’t care. He’d brought Miles back, just as he’d promised. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the flashback in 1.10 when Miles asks Bass what he would be without him.
> 
> Also, _Habibi_ means lover, boyfriend/girlfriend, friend in Arabic.


End file.
